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changehistory[OOC: Completely and utterly AU, as most fics for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
mind_the_muse are likely to be unless a topic fits a current canon or RP situation perfectly.]
1965
"Don't marry him." He spoke from the shadows, having done the very undignified thing of scrambling up her porch and sliding through her bedroom window. Angela spun, staring at him, eyes wide.
"Adam..."
"Don't marry him," he repeated, moving into the light. It was possible he was drunk, but he was never going to admit it.
"I thought this is what you wanted," she snapped, eyes blazing.
"No. I mean, yes. I thought I did, too. But I don't."
"It's a little late for that now, Adam," she said, still glaring. "The wedding's in the morning."
"So? Tell him you changed your mind."
"The scandal..."
"Since when did you care about scandal?" he asked, incredulous. "That's him talking, not you."
"And then what, Adam? You'll throw me at one of the others? One of your other buddies you deem more useful?"
He shook his head, and a bit clumsily, dropped to one knee. "I promise. Never again."
Angela stared down at him, and he thought she looked a bit horrified. "What are you doing?"
"What I should've done years ago," he said, stubborn and reaching to grab her hand. "Don't marry him, Angela. Marry me."
* * *
1968
Even three years later, the ruckus hadn't quite settled over their elopement when Angela announced she was pregnant. In a wounded huff, Arthur had left for Vietnam, and Adam hoped shooting things for a while would calm him down and bring him back to them. He really was a valuable ally. But things like allies were ceasing to matter the more Angela's belly swelled.
He was fascinated, buying books on pregnancy and reading them, spitting out random facts at her until she took the books away and threatened to throw them at his head. Midnight trips for ice cream and pickles were undertaken with near joy, as if everything was happening for the very first time.
When Nathan was born, Adam wouldn't let anyone else hold him, save Angela to feed him, for days. He just cradled him close, smiling down at him and tracing every absolute perfect feature, dreaming of days to come.
* * *
1976
"You want me to what?" Victoria stared at him, slightly aghast.
"This virus could strip us of our powers, Victoria," Adam snapped. "It could kill us."
"Not you," she pointed out.
"But Angela. Nathan. We have to know how it works, what can be done to stop it. We have to find a way to neutralize it and make it safe."
"By mutating it?"
Adam threw up his hands. "Isn't that how vaccines are formed? Dead viruses innoculate people against the live virus, don't they?"
"Yes," she said, tired. "Sometimes, that's how it can work."
"Then make it work," he snapped.
"And if it mutates into something even more deadly?" Victoria asked, watching him closely.
He tried to hide the flash of excitement in his eyes, forcing a look of proper concern. "Then I will deal with it."
She stared at him a very long time, then slowly nodded. "You're the boss."
* * *
1977
The outbreak had been small, and not the more deadly strain. Strain 124 was released, not 138, though Adam held that in reserve, in his own private vault. He'd see if this worked first.
Strain 124 did enough damage. It jumped from the evolved to the unevolved, spreading across the country, but slowly enough that they were able to contain it. People were very sick. A lot of them died. But slowly, a bit painfully.
And then he stepped forward. He swore to the news cameras that he had the cure. That he was the cure. No one believed him until he injected a dying child with his blood. Within minutes, she was completely well. The country watched in amazement as he gave more and more of it, sending out the stockpiles he'd been making for years to hospitals where the infected could be treated.
They did not trace the leak back to his Company. In the end, over a million died, leaving the nation staggered, but he saved so many more, that on the other side of it, they lauded him as a hero, and some even claimed he had saved the world.
* * *
1980
Adam paced the floor, fidgeting as he glanced back at the door.
"Adam, will you sit down, please?" Angela pleaded. "Your pacing isn't going to make them come any faster now than it did in the hospital room with Theresa was born." Said little girl looked up from her mother's lap, fingers in her mouth, her wide blue eyes following her Daddy's movements.
Nathan, at barely twelve, watched the door with a bit more patience, like his father usually showed, though he fidgeted now and then, glancing back at Adam.
"They're saying it's close," Adam said with a sigh. "How can it be close? He's an actor."
"Some of them are worried about what you can do, still unsure of all of us." Angela glanced between her children, then back at him. "And they are wary of me."
"They don't know what you can do. And Parkman worked on all the media coverage..."
"And they worry about someone who can do what he can, as well. An actor seems almost safer."
"I saved them," Adam said, whirling.
"Yes. Which is why it is close," she said with a faint smile.
The door to the room burst open, one of his aides running in. "Sir, they're getting ready to call it."
Adam flipped on the television he hadn't been able to watch yet, shushing the room, which wasn't really necessary. The only sound was Theresa gently sucking on Angela's pearls, unheeded.
"Ladies and Gentleman, while we still need to wait for the Electoral College's decision, we have to say that with the West Coast ballots in and counted, we are pleased to announce that the next President of the United States will be Adam Monroe."
* * *
2062
He stood in the hospital room, staring out the window and seeing nothing. He'd done his best. Regular infusions of his blood had kept her healthy, slowed the aging process. No cancer. No heart problems. She was almost 120, the Biblical days given, and she didn't look more than half that.
It seemed to work better on Nathan, and Adam figured that was because even if his ability wasn't cellular regeneration, he did have Adam's DNA in him. With the addition of Adam's blood, he was nearing 100 looking not much more than 30. Theresa was a cellular regenerator, like her father and had gotten in enough trouble taking risks growing up that, like Nathan's daughter Claire, she looked in her early 20s.
But Angela...he couldn't look back at the bed, fingers curling into a fist. Nathan and Claire and Theresa were all gathered there. He could hear their whispers, low murmurs that he tried to drown out. The nurse waited as well, keeping watch.
The machines stilled, one long beep and he spun at that, refusing to believe, staring in horror. He moved to the bed, reaching blindly for a syringe, pulling out his blood and injecting it into her with fevered intensity.
"Angela, please...come on...please..." But the machines kept that infernal single tone going. So he tried again, and again.
"Mr. President..." An honorary, now, but still his for the two terms he'd served. "I'm sorry, sir. But she's gone."
"NO!" He started to draw more blood, hands shaking too hard to work the syringe.
"Dad..." Nathan's hands, strong on his shoulder, even though his voice broke, too, and Adam could feel the tremble. "Dad...it's time. You have to let her go."
It was failure, he thought, staring at her, feeling like his life had been ripped right out of him and had nowhere to go. Failure. Absolute. And right then, all the rest of it could fade away if only she'd open her eyes and smile again. But there was just the tone, and then silence as it turned off, broken only by the girls' soft sobs and the pounding of his heart in his ears.
mind_the_muse are likely to be unless a topic fits a current canon or RP situation perfectly.]1965
"Don't marry him." He spoke from the shadows, having done the very undignified thing of scrambling up her porch and sliding through her bedroom window. Angela spun, staring at him, eyes wide.
"Adam..."
"Don't marry him," he repeated, moving into the light. It was possible he was drunk, but he was never going to admit it.
"I thought this is what you wanted," she snapped, eyes blazing.
"No. I mean, yes. I thought I did, too. But I don't."
"It's a little late for that now, Adam," she said, still glaring. "The wedding's in the morning."
"So? Tell him you changed your mind."
"The scandal..."
"Since when did you care about scandal?" he asked, incredulous. "That's him talking, not you."
"And then what, Adam? You'll throw me at one of the others? One of your other buddies you deem more useful?"
He shook his head, and a bit clumsily, dropped to one knee. "I promise. Never again."
Angela stared down at him, and he thought she looked a bit horrified. "What are you doing?"
"What I should've done years ago," he said, stubborn and reaching to grab her hand. "Don't marry him, Angela. Marry me."
* * *
1968
Even three years later, the ruckus hadn't quite settled over their elopement when Angela announced she was pregnant. In a wounded huff, Arthur had left for Vietnam, and Adam hoped shooting things for a while would calm him down and bring him back to them. He really was a valuable ally. But things like allies were ceasing to matter the more Angela's belly swelled.
He was fascinated, buying books on pregnancy and reading them, spitting out random facts at her until she took the books away and threatened to throw them at his head. Midnight trips for ice cream and pickles were undertaken with near joy, as if everything was happening for the very first time.
When Nathan was born, Adam wouldn't let anyone else hold him, save Angela to feed him, for days. He just cradled him close, smiling down at him and tracing every absolute perfect feature, dreaming of days to come.
* * *
1976
"You want me to what?" Victoria stared at him, slightly aghast.
"This virus could strip us of our powers, Victoria," Adam snapped. "It could kill us."
"Not you," she pointed out.
"But Angela. Nathan. We have to know how it works, what can be done to stop it. We have to find a way to neutralize it and make it safe."
"By mutating it?"
Adam threw up his hands. "Isn't that how vaccines are formed? Dead viruses innoculate people against the live virus, don't they?"
"Yes," she said, tired. "Sometimes, that's how it can work."
"Then make it work," he snapped.
"And if it mutates into something even more deadly?" Victoria asked, watching him closely.
He tried to hide the flash of excitement in his eyes, forcing a look of proper concern. "Then I will deal with it."
She stared at him a very long time, then slowly nodded. "You're the boss."
* * *
1977
The outbreak had been small, and not the more deadly strain. Strain 124 was released, not 138, though Adam held that in reserve, in his own private vault. He'd see if this worked first.
Strain 124 did enough damage. It jumped from the evolved to the unevolved, spreading across the country, but slowly enough that they were able to contain it. People were very sick. A lot of them died. But slowly, a bit painfully.
And then he stepped forward. He swore to the news cameras that he had the cure. That he was the cure. No one believed him until he injected a dying child with his blood. Within minutes, she was completely well. The country watched in amazement as he gave more and more of it, sending out the stockpiles he'd been making for years to hospitals where the infected could be treated.
They did not trace the leak back to his Company. In the end, over a million died, leaving the nation staggered, but he saved so many more, that on the other side of it, they lauded him as a hero, and some even claimed he had saved the world.
* * *
1980
Adam paced the floor, fidgeting as he glanced back at the door.
"Adam, will you sit down, please?" Angela pleaded. "Your pacing isn't going to make them come any faster now than it did in the hospital room with Theresa was born." Said little girl looked up from her mother's lap, fingers in her mouth, her wide blue eyes following her Daddy's movements.
Nathan, at barely twelve, watched the door with a bit more patience, like his father usually showed, though he fidgeted now and then, glancing back at Adam.
"They're saying it's close," Adam said with a sigh. "How can it be close? He's an actor."
"Some of them are worried about what you can do, still unsure of all of us." Angela glanced between her children, then back at him. "And they are wary of me."
"They don't know what you can do. And Parkman worked on all the media coverage..."
"And they worry about someone who can do what he can, as well. An actor seems almost safer."
"I saved them," Adam said, whirling.
"Yes. Which is why it is close," she said with a faint smile.
The door to the room burst open, one of his aides running in. "Sir, they're getting ready to call it."
Adam flipped on the television he hadn't been able to watch yet, shushing the room, which wasn't really necessary. The only sound was Theresa gently sucking on Angela's pearls, unheeded.
"Ladies and Gentleman, while we still need to wait for the Electoral College's decision, we have to say that with the West Coast ballots in and counted, we are pleased to announce that the next President of the United States will be Adam Monroe."
* * *
2062
He stood in the hospital room, staring out the window and seeing nothing. He'd done his best. Regular infusions of his blood had kept her healthy, slowed the aging process. No cancer. No heart problems. She was almost 120, the Biblical days given, and she didn't look more than half that.
It seemed to work better on Nathan, and Adam figured that was because even if his ability wasn't cellular regeneration, he did have Adam's DNA in him. With the addition of Adam's blood, he was nearing 100 looking not much more than 30. Theresa was a cellular regenerator, like her father and had gotten in enough trouble taking risks growing up that, like Nathan's daughter Claire, she looked in her early 20s.
But Angela...he couldn't look back at the bed, fingers curling into a fist. Nathan and Claire and Theresa were all gathered there. He could hear their whispers, low murmurs that he tried to drown out. The nurse waited as well, keeping watch.
The machines stilled, one long beep and he spun at that, refusing to believe, staring in horror. He moved to the bed, reaching blindly for a syringe, pulling out his blood and injecting it into her with fevered intensity.
"Angela, please...come on...please..." But the machines kept that infernal single tone going. So he tried again, and again.
"Mr. President..." An honorary, now, but still his for the two terms he'd served. "I'm sorry, sir. But she's gone."
"NO!" He started to draw more blood, hands shaking too hard to work the syringe.
"Dad..." Nathan's hands, strong on his shoulder, even though his voice broke, too, and Adam could feel the tremble. "Dad...it's time. You have to let her go."
It was failure, he thought, staring at her, feeling like his life had been ripped right out of him and had nowhere to go. Failure. Absolute. And right then, all the rest of it could fade away if only she'd open her eyes and smile again. But there was just the tone, and then silence as it turned off, broken only by the girls' soft sobs and the pounding of his heart in his ears.
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OOC
Date: 2008-01-01 01:08 am (UTC)Re: OOC
Date: 2008-01-01 02:08 am (UTC)Re: OOC
Date: 2008-01-01 03:03 am (UTC)Re: OOC
Date: 2008-01-01 03:06 am (UTC)ooc
Date: 2008-01-01 01:08 am (UTC)Re: ooc
Date: 2008-01-01 02:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-01 01:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-01 02:07 am (UTC)OOC
Date: 2008-01-01 09:22 am (UTC)Re: OOC
Date: 2008-01-01 05:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-02 05:09 am (UTC)This is amazing.
no subject
Date: 2008-01-02 05:12 am (UTC)